Sweet ambiguity no more

So last night Michael mentions, pretty casually (so typically Michael Wood), that his contract should come via FedEx today. His contract from BarnesJewishChristian healthcare group for his employment beginning July 2007. The implications of THE CONTRACT are huge. At least to me. So the conversation ensues something like this:

Mel: "So, what are you thinking we'll do with it, when it comes?"
Michael: "Sign it?" (Duh?)
Mel: "Are we ready for that?"
Michael: "Aren't we?"
Mel: "Well, I don't know, don't you think we should talk about it more, think about it more, pray about it together, discuss the implications of what this means in terms of the next phase of our move, blahblahblah?"
Michael: (Look of total confusion.)

Look of total confusion pretty justified...because, we have talked, thought and prayed about it. We have sought counsel of attorneys and those in-the-know in the medical world in St. Louis. We have considered the location of the practice, the makeup of the current members of the practice, what they are asking of Michael and how they will take care of him. We have thought about every teeny tiny detail of the job and every possible negative and positive outcome. And the bottom line is: Michael wants the job. It's a GOOD job. It feels stable, secure, an opportunity to do exactly what he wants in his practice. And they want him - this is maybe the biggest piece for me: they really seem to recognize Michael as an excellent physician in both his skill, knowledge, and manner with patients. After so many years of Michael being overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated, it is so nice that the time is coming when some of those things may look more balanced.

So, the problem is this: I'm not ready for the next phase of this process. The phase where we say, "Yes, we are moving." No more, "We're not sure, we're looking all over, in St. Louis, too...we'll see, we have to find the right job, we'll go where the right opportunity is..." No more hedging, dodging, ambiguity. The next phase means that the reality of the move is here. It means that I have to start telling people we are moving. (and dealing with their disappointment and surprise..."why would you ever want to leave jackson?" ?!?!?!?) It means that I have to tell my clients that I am abandoning them (I know, a little dramatic, but it sorta' feels that way to me and it will surely feel that way to some of them), it means that I have to decide pretty quickly when I will actually stop seeing them (next spring? how does one decide this?) It means that when I'm asked to supervise therapy students and teach a course at the seminary next spring, (which i would so totally LOVE to do, exactly up my alley) I need to think seriously about how I could do this in the midst of selling my home, travelling to St. Louis to find a home, and helpling my family through all of the transition that will be afoot. It means we need to start thinking more pointedly about what to tell Lucy, and when to tell her...

interlude: sad but funny convo between Lucy and E in the car the other day(as told by E):

we were driving to school and L said "you know what is sad E?" and then reminded me that Ethan (our 3 y.o. neighbor) moved to Gerany (i think that's how she said it) (Germany) She asked me why and I told her that I thought his daddy got a job there. She said "my daddy got a job to move to St Louis but I don't want to move there" then she rescued me from complete despair by saying "I want to change my mind to move to Willie Wonka's instead" but Mama and Daddy will have to hold Annie because there is a big chocolate river that she could fall in. She then went on describing Willie Wonka to me for the rest of our drive.

I want to move to Willie Wonka's, too. I want to not have to deal with the reality of this. I want the ambiguity, the lack of definition, the vague status of looking for a job and having not nailed one down yet. But it seems my time there is drawing to a close. This is simultaneously the end (of sorts) of a process for Michael and just the beginning for me. I know we don't do this alone, but it really looks different for each of us.

I am happy for Michael. This is the right decision. It is good for him, and it will, also, be good for us. I really believe that. I just don't want it yet. And yet here it is. So, here I wait on the couch for the FedEx man to appear with the document that ends my ambiguity...and I suppose I'll sign for it and not pretend that no one is home. (Yes, I thought about it. I'll try to be a grown-up, though.)